


Small Potatoes

by virusq



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet, Food, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28231689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virusq/pseuds/virusq
Summary: "Communal dining nurtures a sense of openness and trust.""Right," Tapper leans forward, crossing his arms on the counter, "but grunt work is for grunts. You've worked hard to get where you are. You have other people to work hard for you, now. That's kind of the idea of being a boss."
Kudos: 1





	Small Potatoes

**Author's Note:**

> /shrug
> 
> I blame Lani.

"It is customary to cook for one's crew."

Tapper wrinkles his nose. "According to what backwater tradition?"

Karrde loops the apron over his head and ties it around his waist. The off white fabric clashing with his bronze skin and dark hair. He rolls up his sleeves. "Any backwater planet with civility."

"You and I have drastically different interpretations of civility." Tapper plucks a fruit from the communal bowl and takes a bite. He chews the fruit while contemplating the scene. "I'm just saying: you're a boss. You have minions for this kind of menial labor."

Karrde smiles, retrieving ingredients from a cooling unit and arraying them before himself. He picks up a root vegetable and begins cubing it while intentionally avoiding eye-contact. "Communal dining nurtures a sense of openness and trust."

"Right," Tapper leans forward, crossing his arms on the counter, "but grunt work is for grunts. You've worked hard to get where you are. You have other people to work hard for you, now. That's kind of the idea of being a boss."

The _chop chop chop_ of cool metal dissecting tubers and meat is hypnotic. His fingers curl at the appropriate position and he continues to cut while flashing Tapper a devilish grin. Talon Karrde has far too much skill with a knife for anyone to remain comfortable beneath that gaze. "Are you volunteering to make dinner, Tapper?"

Tapper's mouth slows in contemplation. His brain catches up with his general motor functions and he remembers to chew before swallowing. "No," he says between bites.

"Do you see anyone else volunteering?"

"No," Tapper points defensively, "but that's the idea. You _order_ them to make dinner. It's not volunteer. It's an order."

"Fine." Karrde pries the plastifilm from a hock of meat and sets it on a slate. He pulls another knife from the sink and sets it next to the meat. He slides the slate toward Tapper. "Slice this."

Tapper looks at the meat for a long moment. His eyes shift from the meat to Karrde with a dismissive frown. "Do I look like a slicer?"

"If you were a slicer, you’d have meaningful work to do."

Tapper grins. "See? Menial labor."


End file.
